


hot air

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Electricity Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Five times Kitayama tried to get Fujigaya to like balloons, and one time he succeeded.





	hot air

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo and cotton candy bingo (balloons).

Fujigaya was never a big fan of balloons. He could tolerate them well enough, and he definitely wasn’t scared of them or anything; he just didn’t like them very much. Especially when they popped and he wasn’t ready for it.

“What’s with you?” Kitayama had asked him about a year ago after filming a Shounen Club battle that involved shooting balloons.

“Nothing,” Fujigaya had answered, putting on his game face. He’d been so careful not to let his distaste show on camera, though Kitayama was much harder to fool. For someone who claims not to be the group leader, he’s sure up in everyone’s business all the time.

“Is that right,” Kitayama had said dryly, picking up the closest balloon and clapping his hands around it so hard that it popped, right in front of Fujigaya’s face.

Fujigaya couldn’t cover his full body shudder, but he still holds that anyone would react that way to a sudden loud noise. “I don’t like them, okay,” he’d hissed. “My brothers used to always pop them near me and laugh when I jumped.”

“Your brothers are younger than you,” Kitayama had pointed out, hiding his amusement. “But hey, it’s cool if you’re scared of balloons. I won’t judge—”

“I’m not _scared_ of them,” Fujigaya had cut him off, glaring hard. “I just don’t like them. Leave it be.”

He’d walked out of the room then, and Kitayama hadn’t brought it up again. But at his birthday celebration a couple weeks later, there were absolutely no balloons, and Fujigaya still wonders if Kitayama had anything to do with that.

“Hey,” Kitayama approaches him the next spring, keeping his voice low so the others won’t hear. Fujigaya thinks this is how rumors get started, but at this point any rumors about the pair of them interacting would be favorable. “I found out what our Duet shoot for September is.”

“And it’s a big secret?” Fujigaya stage-whispers back facetiously.

“It’s balloons,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s face falls. “We just have to jump around in them. I wanted to warn you.”

“Mitsu, it’s fine.” Fujigaya sighs. “Just don’t be an asshole and pop any around me.”

“Don’t you think you should try to get over this?” Kitayama asks gently, quickly speaking again when Fujigaya’s eyes start to narrow. “I mean, balloons are fun and cheerful. It’s not healthy to have such negative connotations with something so cute.”

“People are scared of clowns, and they’re fun,” Fujigaya argues.

Kitayama fails at trying not to look smug. “I thought you weren’t scared?”

“I’m _not_ ,” Fujigaya says. “I was just making a comparison.”

“Whatever.” Kitayama keeps looking smug and Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “I’m going to help you get over this.”

“There is nothing to get over—”

“I took a psychology class in university, okay,” Kitayama interrupts. “It’s called _conditioning_. I can help you with this.”

Fujigaya just stares at him as he walks away, worrying a little for his life.

> 1.

Kitayama’s first attempt at “fixing” Fujigaya is, naturally, on Yokoo’s birthday. Fujigaya really should have seen it coming, but instead he navigates the small room filled with balloons like it’s a war zone.

The pop startles him so much that he loses his balance, falling right over onto Senga. Luckily, Fujigaya’s life isn’t a drama, so nobody was forced face-first into a cake or someone else’s mouth, but it was still embarrassing.

“Kitayama!” Fujigaya yells, giving Senga an apologetic look as he turns to face the culprit. He’s the most angry that Kitayama doesn’t even look guilty about it.

“Exposure,” Kitayama hisses under his breath, despite the other five watching them curiously. “The more I do it, the more you will get used to it.”

“Did you not listen to a fucking word I said last year,” Fujigaya growls back. “I have been around it my _entire life_ , and that is _why_ I don’t like it. What did they teach you in university? To torture people until they give in?”

Kitayama purses his lips. “There has to be some way.”

“It’s not this way,” Fujigaya says sternly. “Now leave me the fuck alone on my best friend’s birthday, _please_.”

For once Kitayama actually does what he’s told, and the others believe they’re just at ends with each other. It’s not that far-fetched of a theory lately.

> 2.

Fujigaya’s so happy to be starring in a drama that he couldn’t care less that he has to share the spotlight with Kitayama. He’s used to that, really, and truth be told he doesn’t mind being paired with him so much. At least the substantial height difference makes Fujigaya look taller and cooler.

He’s the most amused that they’re basically playing carbon copies of each _other_ , though to the extreme. Fujigaya’s not nearly as mean as Danji, and Kitayama’s not as dumb as Teppei—but close. He’d known going into it that they were going to have a lot of scenes together, arguing or fighting or just staring at each other dubiously, and Fujigaya was fine with that. To him, it’s just another day at work.

On his birthday, when the drama cast surprises him with an impromptu party, there are no balloons. None, not even an accidental one brought by someone who doesn’t know any better. Kitayama had to have told _everyone_ , and Fujigaya wasn’t sure whether he should be mad about this or not.

The party favors, however, have balloons on them.

“What did you tell them,” Fujigaya corners Kitayama while everyone is busy eating their cake—also his favorite.

“That you like white chocolate and butter cream,” Kitayama answers, lifting pointed eyes toward him.

Fujigaya narrows his eyes back, and Kitayama just shovels more cake into his mouth. Nobody has given Fujigaya any strange looks or pitying glances, so he supposes it was just a _thoughtful_ move on Kitayama’s part. One that he’s not going to own up to. Fujigaya doesn’t understand him sometimes.

“It’s delicious, thank you,” is all he says, and Kitayama hides a smile.

> 3.

There’s only a week until the balloon shoot, which keeps getting pushed back for unbeknownst reasons. Fujigaya doesn’t think Kitayama has enough pull to decide that on his own, so luck must just be in his favor. As the date gets closer and closer, Fujigaya finds himself hoping that Kitayama really can work some kind of psychological magic and “fix” him, because he’s always felt like an idiot for not enjoying balloons as much as everyone else, as ridiculous as that sounds.

They’re leaving the Jimusho one night when someone grabs his wrist and pulls him in an empty room. For a brief second, Fujigaya thinks he’s getting kidnapped, but then he’s looking down at Kitayama’s devious face and rolling his eyes.

“You know, Watta already thinks there’s something going on between us,” Fujigaya tells him, pretending not to catch his breath. “Doing shit like this doesn’t help matters any.”

“You wish,” Kitayama replies, flashing a bright smile as he pulls a very long, very deflated balloon out of his pocket. “Just give me a second.”

They’re not that bothersome when they’re not blown up, Fujigaya decides as he watches Kitayama put the opening to his lips and blow air into it. It’s actually kind of comical to watch him, because his face gets red and his eyes squint shut like he’s trying _really hard_ and Fujigaya’s trying not to laugh by the time he finishes. It’s still very long, and Fujigaya finds himself backing away from it as Kitayama ties the end and proudly holds it up.

“Now relax,” Kitayama says, and no two words have been more terrifying as Fujigaya braces himself for whatever Kitayama plans on doing to him with a long red balloon in an empty room.

What he does is twist ends of it and loop them all together, and it’s fascinating and nerve-wracking at the same time. Fujigaya wants to know how it works and what he’s actually making, but at the same time he’s preparing himself for one of the twisted bubbles to pop. He has to look stupid, grabbing onto his own arms and wincing, but Kitayama’s not looking at him, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrates on his creation.

And when he’s done, Fujigaya still can’t tell what it is. “Um…”

“It’s a dog,” Kitayama says, looking sheepish. “Sort of.”

“Do dogs have three eyes?” Fujigaya asks, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“Those are _ears_ ,” Kitayama grumbles, then tosses the disfigured balloon animal to Fujigaya, who scrambles to catch it and holds it like it’s a ticking bomb.

Fujigaya’s eyes are wide, his breath quickening as he barely holds onto it. His hands shake and the balloon starts to fall, his fingers immediately jumping to his ears as he expects it to pop. But nothing happens, and his hands are urged away by a gentle press of Kitayama’s fingertips to his arm.

“We’re done for now,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya’s eyes look down at the inflatable dog-thing that’s still moving on the ground. “You did well.”

“I did?” Fujigaya asks.

Kitayama smiles at him. “You didn’t get mad at me.”

“Good work,” Fujigaya says mechanically, then turns around and leaves.

The balloon dog stays in their meeting room after that, and Fujigaya pretends not to see it.

> 4.

Fujigaya’s in the bathroom fixing his hair when Kitayama creeps up behind him and grins evilly over his shoulder.

“Holy—” Fujigaya gasps, clutching his heart. “You scared the shit out of me! Announce your presence or something.”

“It’s a public bathroom,” Kitayama points out. “I don’t need to let everyone know when I walk in.”

“You do when you’re too short to be seen,” Fujigaya shoots back, and Kitayama’s eyebrows knit together on his forehead, which is about all Fujigaya can see over his own shoulder.

“Shut up and close your eyes,” Kitayama says.

“I saw an AV movie that started like this,” Fujigaya teases him, but follows directions, clutching onto the sink to hold himself up. “Something you want to tell me, Mitsu?”

“You wish,” Kitayama says again, and it sounds even creepier when Fujigaya can’t see him. “Now relax.”

It’s the same thing he’d said before he’d made the stupid balloon animal—or attempted to, anyway—so Fujigaya has a pretty good idea where this is going. That doesn’t stop him from jerking when he feels something weird on his hair, like he’s being petted with something that’s not someone’s hand. “What are you—”

“Shh,” Kitayama hisses. “I’m almost done.”

Fujigaya’s probably making a confused face in the mirror, but he doesn’t argue. It’s not like it’s an unpleasant feeling. Just strange. It’s almost electrical, like when he shuffles socked feet on a rug in dry weather and knows he’s going to get shocked by the next metal thing he touches.

“I’m going to move it now,” Kitayama says, his voice calm and steady. “First on your arms, then on your face. Don’t be startled. It’s okay.”

At this point, Fujigaya has a guess at what Kitayama is touching him with, but doesn’t want to accept it quite yet. The funny feeling travels down his right arm, making the hairs stand up in its wake, then continues back up his left arm. Even though he knows it’s coming, he still gasps when it touches his face, giving him the strangest sensation on his jaw where he’d just shaved this morning.

“Good,” Kitayama encourages, and it’s actually soothing to Fujigaya’s ears. He settles down more and exhales slowly, feeling the tension leave his body even though it’s obvious that Kitayama is running a goddamn balloon over his face.

He gasps when it touches his lips, igniting a small spark that he’s not entirely sure is from the static. He doesn’t hear any kind of reaction behind him, and Kitayama doesn’t pause in his movements, so Fujigaya figures he either didn’t notice or isn’t bothered by Fujigaya reacting this way. He’s probably just pleased that his plan is technically working.

The weird feeling returns to his hair and Kitayama’s voice is dangerously close. “Now open your eyes.”

Fujigaya’s eyelids feel heavy as he lifts them, seeing blurry versions of the pair of them in the mirror with a giant balloon—red again—on top of his head. It’s actually stuck to his hair, as Kitayama’s hands are nowhere near him, and it stays put even when Fujigaya slowly tilts his head from side to side.

“Okay?” Kitayama asks.

Fujigaya nods, freezing when the balloon falls forward onto the sink. He squeezes his eyes shut again, but it just bounces off of the faucet and sticks to his arm. “Okay,” he says, unable to keep the waver out of his voice.

“This is progress,” Kitayama says, flashing him a smile in the mirror; he’s standing far enough to the side that Fujigaya can see him now. “Now hand it back to me.”

Taking a deep breath, Fujigaya frowns at this _thing_ on his arm and feels anger toward it. Why can’t he just be like everyone else and have fun with them? Even if it pops, it shouldn’t cripple him so much. It’s just a toy.

Carefully he reaches over with his other hand, placing it on the surface of the balloon and slowly gripping it with his fingers. It feels almost slimy, stretched too thin—like a condom, he thinks. The association almost makes him laugh, because it’s so ridiculous, but with that in mind it’s easier to pull the balloon away from his arm and hold it out to the side.

“Very good,” Kitayama says, taking it from him and stepping back. “You may get shocked a little bit because of this. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Fujigaya says, still breathing hard, and he quickly taps his finger against the metal faucet to see. Nothing happens, and he lets out his air. “Thanks.”

“I’m not done yet,” Kitayama says, and it sounds promising.

Fujigaya nearly gets electrocuted when he opens his car door that night, but it feels better than ever before.

> 5.

The night before the shoot, Fujigaya expects Kitayama to show up at his place with another goddamn balloon, but he doesn’t expect to have to _blow it up himself_.

“This is the last chance,” Kitayama tells him seriously, holding out the bag of deflated balloons. “Tomorrow you’re going to have to roll around in them no matter what, so please try, okay?”

“Okay,” Fujigaya says, accepting the bag and cringing as he pulls one out. He takes a deep breath, then holds the opening to his lips and blows.

It’s not bad at all. It’s exhausting, but something about watching the balloon grow before his eyes—with his own breath—makes it easier to handle. As it gets bigger, though, he gets anxious and his hands start to shake.

“You can stop if you want to,” Kitayama says gently. “You don’t have to blow them up all the way at first. Build up to it.”

Nodding, Fujigaya pinches the end of the balloon and ties it up, feeling pathetic at barely making a bulge. He can see it has markings on it, though, but they’re too close together to make out. “What is this?”

“You’ll have to wait until you can read it properly,” Kitayama answers airily, and Fujigaya glares at him as he sighs and carefully unties the knot he’d just made.

The balloon starts to deflate and he brings it back to his mouth before he loses too much air, closing his eyes as he forces himself to push through the mental block in his brain. He can feel with his other hand how big the balloon is getting, and he goes as far as he dares until he’s certain that he can read the stupid writing and ties it up again.

When he opens his eyes, he’s surprised at the size of it. He didn’t expect it to be bigger than his head. Next to him, Kitayama looks like a proud mother whose son just took his first steps or something. He has his fist pressed against his mouth and everything. Fujigaya would laugh at him if he didn’t feel pretty damn proud of himself as well.

Remembering the writing, he gingerly turns the balloon around until he can read it. “’You are cool’,” Fujigaya reads, then laughs. “What is this?”

“Motivation,” Kitayama replies simply. “You want to know what the others say now, right?”

“You want me to blow up all of these?” Fujigaya asks incredulously.

“There are only five of them,” Kitayama points out. “You don’t have to rush. We have all night.”

Fujigaya wants to point out how dubious that sounds, but he doesn’t want to hear “you wish” again. Focusing his attention on the challenge ahead and not Kitayama, he braces himself with another deep breath and blows up a second balloon. This one says “good looking,” and he laughs. “Why thank you, balloon-san,” he jokes. “Who wrote these, anyway?”

“Who do you think?” Kitayama asks, leaning back in the chair across from where Fujigaya’s parked on the couch. “I thought maybe you’d like them better if they flattered you.”

“That’s an incredibly illogical theory, but an appropriate one.” Fujigaya examines the balloon in confusion. “How did you write it without blowing them up?”

Kitayama eyes him strangely. “Who said I didn’t blow them up?”

“But then…you…” Fujigaya lifts his fingers to his lips, and Kitayama bursts out laughing. “It’s not funny!”

“Taisuke, we’ve shared the same straw before,” Kitayama says pointedly, and it’s true. “I’ve seen you use Watta’s chopsticks. Don’t get all weird about it.”

Shrugging, Fujigaya returns to the balloon, trying not to wince at the realization that Kitayama’s lips have also been around the end of it. Though the more he tries not to think about it, the more he learns it’s because of the feeling he gets when he does thinks about it, which he doesn’t want to think about either.

Suddenly balloons are complicated.

He blows the rest of them up to capacity, laughing at each “motivational” message: “voice of an angel,” “inspiration,” and “be happy smiling.” By the end of it, his heart feels warm, and he victoriously presents Kitayama with the “cool” balloon. After all of this, the least he can do is return the compliment.

Kitayama immediately smacks it back to him, sending it flying toward his face, and Fujigaya hits the couch and covers his head with his arms as it soars over his back.

He hears a sigh. “Looks like we’ve still got work to do.”

By the time Fujigaya can’t keep his eyes open anymore, he’s made it to where he can punch the balloon that’s soaring right at him, though his heart is still pounding in apprehension of a pop. He offers to let Kitayama stay the night, setting up the couch with blankets and a pillow, then retreats to his own bed to pass out and definitely _not_ think about balloons and Kitayama. Especially not Kitayama.

When he wakes up, there’s a giant red balloon in front of his face on his pillow, and he screams.

> +1

Fujigaya troops into the studio ready for battle. On the way there, Kitayama had offered to tell the others about his issue so they wouldn’t mess with him, but Fujigaya argued that they would mess with him even more if they knew. He can handle it, he insisted. He’s a professional.

He tries to keep his breathing under control as the photographer surrounds him with balloons, big pastel ones that have helium in them judging by the chipmunk voice Miyata suddenly takes on. Nikaido joins him, and together they sing Kisumai songs at double the original speed. Even Fujigaya can’t help but laugh at him.

He catches Kitayama’s eye from across the room and gives him a thumb’s up. They had already gotten shit for arriving together, but Fujigaya doesn’t care anymore. He’ll tell them all after this is over, that he had a traumatic experience with balloons and Kitayama helped him get over it. Surprisingly. He supposes that university education was good for something after all.

So many balloons touching him at once feels weird, though not uncomfortable. If he had to compare it to something, it would actually be an orgy. He laughs out loud at the thought, and the photographer frowns because he’s supposed to be the stoic, indifferent one right now. But the comparison is just so funny—obviously Fujigaya has never been in an orgy, but he imagines it feels like multiple hands making contact with his body, aimlessly with no structure or purpose other than to just _feel_.

Suddenly he remembers Kitayama running the balloon over his face and his expression falls. The photographer likes this, snapping even more pictures, and Fujigaya shifts into idol mode. Now every balloon he touches reminds him of Kitayama, whether from the texture or the tiny amount of static or even the weightless way it sits in his hand. It’s a much better association, he reasons, unable to keep the amusement off of his face as he remembers how Kitayama had failed at making him a balloon animal.

When Tamamori pops one later, intentionally from the way he was bouncing on it, Fujigaya only jumps a little bit. Kitayama happens to be standing next to him and grabs onto his wrist. It’s instantly calming, and Fujigaya turns to look at him.

“I’m okay,” he says, smiling for effect, and Kitayama loses his hold. “Thanks to you.”

Kitayama pretends not to have a reaction, but Fujigaya can see the satisfaction in his impassive face. Later, after the others leave, having taken the news of his phobia rather well with minimal teasing, Fujigaya drags Kitayama back onto the empty studio set that’s still littered with balloons. He supposes the crew will clean them up in the morning since the shoot ran so late.

“What are you—” Kitayama starts, cut off when Fujigaya bumps a balloon right in his face. Instead of getting mad, his face lights up. “You did it!”

“I think I’m cured,” Fujigaya says hopefully, scooping up more balloons and throwing them into the air. “I may even like them now,” he adds, not sure what he’s actually admitting to.

One of them ends up hitting him in the nose, but he’s only knocked off balance for a second before sending another one back toward Kitayama. He feels like a kid again, having a balloon fight that he would have _never_ had as a kid, and Kitayama’s laughing with him, because he’s basically still a kid himself. They smack each other with balloons until Kitayama falls onto his back, Fujigaya hovering over him and repeatedly beating him with the same balloon as they both laugh like idiots.

Then Kitayama grabs the balloon, halting it in action, and Fujigaya notices they are both pressing it from either side. He’s certain that it’s going to pop, biting his lip in preparation, but nothing happens.

“Last experiment,” Kitayama says, a little out of breath from their romp. “This will decide if you’re cured or not. Put your lips up to it.”

Fujigaya makes a face at being so close to something that’s been on the floor, but he complies and leans forward. That tingling returns to his lips and he gasps, closing his eyes to the sensation, and he feels a little sad when it moves away. His natural instinct is to follow it, so he does, lowering his head more and more until the balloon disappears and something else presses against his lips, something soft and plush and _moving_.

“Mitsu,” he whispers, feeling Kitayama’s breath on his cheek as a different kind of tingling graces his lips.

“You’re so statically charged,” Kitayama replies, lifting his hand to gently cup Fujigaya’s jaw. “I feel a little zap each time we touch.”

“Must be my shocking personality,” Fujigaya jokes, and Kitayama scoffs as he pulls him down for a proper kiss. He doesn’t quite know why they’re kissing, only that they _are_ and Kitayama’s lips feel amazing against his, alive and sparking.

It’s Fujigaya who slips his tongue in first, swallowing Kitayama’s gasp and reveling at the way he gasps and arches beneath him. He must really want him badly to be so affected by such a small gesture. Fujigaya straddles him closer, covering Kitayama’s body with his own in the sea of balloons that still bump into his legs and arms, and suddenly there’s a loud _pop_ right next to his ear.

Fujigaya winces out loud, but the noise that comes out of his mouth is dubious and his hips automatically jerk forward to grind down against Kitayama. It’s such an adverse reaction that it surprises himself, though Kitayama seems to have seen it coming and even planned it as he holds the broken balloon pieces in his hand and stares up at Fujigaya. There’s nothing apologetic about his expression, but there’s no malice either. His eyes are full of lust and all Fujigaya can do is kiss him again, slowly rocking against him and moaning as he starts to harden from the friction.

“I’m a genius—you’re cured,” Kitayama mumbles against his lips, and Fujigaya already plans on thanking him at home. In his bed.

> xxx

Kitayama holds the balloon over Fujigaya’s bare chest, licking his lips as he considers his course of action. Fujigaya can tell he’s planning how to go about making this happen, smiling at his deep concentration. He ends up rubbing the balloon on Fujigaya’s hair again, long enough to give it a nice charge, then ghosts Fujigaya’s entire upper body with it.

It feels good, comforting, leaving his skin marginally numb like when his foot falls asleep. He squirms at the sensations, amazed at the way it feels to have electrical current building up on the surface of his chest and arms. Kitayama stares down at him for awhile, then clears his throat nervously.

“You ready?” he asks, grabbing for the rubber-handled metal tongs next to him.

Fujigaya’s chest rises and falls with the force of his breath. “Yeah.”

He braces himself as Kitayama lowers the tongs to his arm, giving him a sharp shock. His body jerks from the current, making his hips snap upwards, and they both groan from the friction. Kitayama rolls his hips downward in retaliation, making Fujigaya arch beneath him and grab onto his bedspread with both hands from the pressure.

Kitayama rolls the balloon over his skin again, this time spending some extra time on his nipples. Fujigaya’s nerves race at the implication, but all he does is bite his lip and nod when Kitayama takes away the balloon and looks at him questioningly. Nothing could have prepared him for the surge he feels when Kitayama touches the tongs to his right nipple, which goes straight into his pants and leaves the sensitive area throbbing like it had been pierced.

The process repeats itself with the other nipple, pulling a sharp moan from Fujigaya’s throat. He’s more turned on than he’s ever been in his life, and it was all started by something from which he’d always kept his distance until recently. He’s fairly certain that he’ll never have a negative reaction to balloons again, unless it’s in regards to electrons.

Kitayama dots sporadic parts of Fujigaya’s body with static shocks, naturally getting the biggest reaction from sensitive areas like the inside of his thigh and just below his hipbone. They both still have their boxers on, but just considering the possibility of being electrocuted _there_ has him arching and feeling it in all of the places he’d already been shocked.

“Enough, Mitsu,” he gets out, even his voice sounding like a series of monotone staccato notes.

The tongs are cast aside as Kitayama lowers himself flush against Fujigaya, covering him with his own body, and Fujigaya feels his electric charge shift over to the new flesh. The act of transferring a current is such a strange sensation, and briefly Fujigaya considers reaching for the tongs and seeing if Kitayama likes it as well, but then Kitayama’s reaching into his boxers and he decides against doing anything that will likely make him _stop_.

They kiss deeply, tongues swirling around each other as heated breaths puff on cheeks and bodies rock together. Fujigaya’s hands are shaking again, but it’s nothing phobic at all as he clings to Kitayama’s back and tears away one of his hands to trails fingers down past his waistband. Kitayama’s touch gets to him first, Fujigaya’s moan dying on his tongue as he wraps his hand around Fujigaya’s erection and tugs, and Fujigaya does the same thing to him. Their breaths turn into gasps and moans that increase in volume and frequency as they both move faster.

Kitayama clings to him with his free hand, kissing him even harder despite the distraction, and Fujigaya no longer has to wonder why he’s doing this. He feels it in the kiss, the rough and desperate way he’s pulling Fujigaya off and thrusting into Fujigaya’s hand, and now all Fujigaya can wonder is how long he’s wanted to do this. Apparently “you wish” translates to “I wish you wished it.”

Fujigaya comes first, spilling over Kitayama’s hand as Kitayama’s first name is pressed into their kiss, and Kitayama follows with a very low, very deep groan. They lay in still, breathless silence for several long seconds afterward, until Fujigaya brings his hand to his mouth to lick his fingers.

Kitayama watches him intently, then does the same. Fujigaya smiles at him, a lazy grin that barely raises the corners of his mouth, and Kitayama just shakes his head as he tries to get up. After a few failed attempts, he rolls off the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, getting a rather nasty jolt of electricity when he touches the door knob.

Laughing, Fujigaya reaches for the tongs and points them towards the other man. “Shall I shock you next?”

“You wish,” Kitayama replies, and Fujigaya just grins, knowing exactly what that means.


End file.
